


I'd rather be burned as a witch

by userniko



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Witch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 00:49:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18680746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/userniko/pseuds/userniko
Summary: Set sometime in the 1600s.Markus Manfred is a man most loved by his community. A teacher on weekdays, a preacher on Sunday. A gentle soul.A woman named North lives in a cottage on the outskirts of town.A woman like her, beautiful, driven, isolated, cannot hope to live long.





	1. A woman like her

 

 

Markus sat in his study, reading the bible and preparing his sermon for the next Sunday.

He preferred the teachings of Christ himself to anything else in the bible. Love. Acceptance. Forgiveness.  
That was the world he wanted to live in, and so he tried to lead by example.

_Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you._

It wasn't easy, but he did.

 

But he couldn't preach the same stories every month. So now he searched for inspiration.

_Proverbs 25:23_

_The north wind driveth away rain: so doth an angry countenance a backbiting tongue._

He smiled, then realized that his thoughts were not on the task at hand.

 

Frustrated, he flipped restlessly through the pages.  
He realized that he'd subconsciously flipped to the Song of Songs -

_Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck..._

_Awake, o north wind; and come, thou south..._

_Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners?_

\- and he slammed the book shut.

_North._

 

Whenever he saw her in the market, or on the street, or on the very rare occasions that she came to church, he was dazzled, burned by how beautiful and fierce she was.

She haunted him, invaded his thoughts.

But he didn't blame her. She had never given him anything except for glares and distrusting glances.  
And even if she **had** smiled at him...

 ****  
He flipped to Matthew 5:28

_ Whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.  _ _ And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee. _

_ Exactly.   _ he thought.  _My eyes are my own responsibility._  
  


Inspired, he began taking notes.  
This sermon was in some ways a love letter, in other ways a condolence, an offer of sympathy.

Because could see how other men looked at her, and how much she hated it. And he could see how disliked she was by the community.  
He worried about her. And this small gesture, to try to protect her, was all he was able to offer her.

 

Well, technically, he could offer her more. Their denomination allowed a preacher to marry.

But he could not marry a woman like North.  
A woman that lived alone, with no husband or father or master.  
That refused to wear a dress and instead wore pants.  
Who hunted, who earned her own living.  
A woman who burned with anger, conviction, passion.

And besides, she would never have him anyway.  Everything about her that drove his desire meant that she would never wish to be tied to someone like him.

He had no illusions that she would be his Mary Magdalene. That, like Jesus, with enough kindness he could drive the wrath and pride and all other demons from her, and she would weep, and anoint his feet, and choose to walk by his side for the rest of his life.

He wrote, inspired.  
Then put the sermon aside, and started another one, because he would save this sermon for one of the rare weeks that she came to church.  
He hoped that it would comfort her.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I know that there's evidence that Mary Magdalene wasn't a prostitute, but it was commonly believed and depicted in art that way so that's what I'm going with here.

 

 

  
Markus scanned the small crowd as he entered the church, but didn't see her.  
There was little in the way of entertainment in the town, so even if North wasn't particularly pious Markus was still surprised that he didn't see her every week.  
He supposed she didn't feel welcome, between people's attitudes and the fact that she hadn't grown up here.  
North had come to the town about five years ago, with no backstory and few possessions. She'd taken residence in an abandoned, unused cottage on the outskirts of town and over time had turned it into something of a home.  
  


He was preparing to deliver his sermon when North slipped quietly into the back of the church, unnoticed by almost everyone.  
He shuffled his papers to the sermon he'd prepared with her in mind.  
He saw her gazing up at a painting of Mary Magdalene kneeling in penitence, one hand clutching the fabric of her immodest prostitute's dress, holding it up.  
She was usually depicted like this, with reddish hair that always reminded Markus of North.  
And North looked... sad, for the first time that Markus had ever seen.

 

He was glad he'd included Mary in his sermon.  
Markus walked up to the pulpit and began to preach, avoiding looking over at North.  
Even from across the room, he knew he would become lost in her smoldering brown eyes.

" _A_ _ccept the one whose faith is weak, without quarreling over disputable matters._ " he read.  
" _We belong to the Lord. Who are you to judge someone else’s servant? To their own master, servants stand or fall._  
 _You, then, why do you judge your brother or sister? Or why do you treat them with contempt? For we will all stand before God’s judgment seat._ "

The town was used to Markus's attitude by now, but he hoped that they were still  **listening** , understanding what he was trying to say.  


He spoke about Jesus accepting Mary Magdalene as one of his core disciples, despite her past and that she was a woman.  
"Christ preferred to spend his time with those that needed him the most." he told them.  
"And he loved the virtuous and the sinful equally. We are all God's children. All sinners, and all worthy nonetheless."

 

 

As he eventually wrapped up, he dared to glance at North. When he preached, and she was just a face in the crowd, she didn't scowl at him like she usually did. Although he really didn't mind it either way. As long as her dark eyes were on him.  
He glanced away before heat could creep into his face and color his skin.  
She walked out as he finished, as usual. No doubt to avoid the rest of the congregation.  
He saw a couple of men watch her go, several of them looking angry rather than lustful. Probably because she had been wearing pants to church.  


He sighed, placing his papers in the pulpit and coming down to talk with the community, shaking hands, smiling, hearing news.  
He both wished that she would stay, and knew that it would be unbearable.

  
"Did you hear about the witches, out East?" chatter caught his ear.

"Witches?" he asked, disturbed.  
"Yes." the old man told him. "A trader told us about it. They've caught women practicing magic, trying to summon the devil."  


"I hope they haven't done anything hasty." Markus said uneasily.  
"Hasty?" asked the man's wife.  
"Paranoia and fear can lead to tragedy." Markus said.  
"Well, they've burned most of them already." answered the man. "According to the trader."

Markus felt sick.  
He knew that according to the bible, witchcraft was real, and dangerous. He could not refute the idea of magic.  
But he also knew that fear of witches was dangerous to the innocent as well as the guilty.  
Specifically, to one woman that he knew. 

And he knew that these fears, these assaults, would spread like waves across the country.  
But what could he do? Could he stop it?

 

He excused himself, going up to the highest balcony of the church, looking out at the town.  
He prayed for all of them. Prayed for mercy, for **reason** to prevail. Prayed for North.

  
"I was wondering where you were." he heard suddenly in North's dulcet tone.

 _You can't be here._ he thought.  _Alone. With me._  
But no one told North where she could and couldn't be.

"I needed to think." he said. Trying to be distant, but not cold. Pretend he wasn't on fire inside.

 

"I like it here." she said. "I come here often, when the church is empty. I can watch all the people going about from afar...  
It's like being alone with the world."

 

"I liked your sermon." she added. "Somehow it was... exactly what I needed to hear today."   


_Because I wrote it for_ _you._   he thought, but said nothing.  
He walked over and sat on a chair, clasping his hands.  
He could walk away. But he didn't want to make her feel rejected.  
 _God help me._   he thought.

 

"You seem preoccupied." she noticed.

"I've learned something... disturbing, about what's going on in towns to the east of us." he said, not looking at her.

 

North nodded, pacing slowly. "All the traders are talking about it... Many women were burned."  
She turned to him. "People hate women like us... They'll never give us our freedom. Never let us be."  
"I've tried to instill a belief in love, mercy, in this town." Markus said. "I just have to hope that reason prevails."

 

"Or... maybe you should leave?" he said, unwillingly. "Please don't misunderstand, it's not that I don't want you in this town.  
But maybe you'd be safer somewhere else."  


North shook her head. "I see the way they look at me. It's the same in every town. There's no safe place for someone like me.  
So I'm not running away. Where could I go?"

 

He walked over to look out at the town. This town he loved, and yet it was threatening to destroy someone innocent.   
  


"Have you lived here all your life?" North asked.  
"Yes, with my father." Markus said. "He was a craftsman. An artist. Traders sold his work in towns all over.  
I've been very fortunate. He gave me a comfortable life, and he was a kind and loving man."  


He turned to North.  
"What about you?" he asked. "What was your life like before you came here?"  
"I don't want to talk about it." she said, not meeting his eye for the first time since he'd known her.  


It was clearly a sensitive topic.  
"I know we don't know each other very well." he said. "But... you can trust me not to judge. Nothing in your past will make me think less of you."  
He could see tears welling up in her eyes.  
He wanted so badly to hold her and comfort her, but it would be inappropriate.

"You were looking sad earlier, too." he said. "Looking at the painting of Mary Magdalene."  
She smiled a little. "I didn't think you'd noticed me."  
 _I always notice you_ _._   he thought, but didn't dare to say.  
"Does she remind you of who you were?" he asked, and realized what it meant if it did.  


North had her hands on her hips, tears leaking slightly.  
"Did you mean what you said?" she asked, still looking down. "In the sermon? That her past really meant nothing?"  
"Yes." he said, honestly.  
"Nothing." smirked North sadly. "Well, I was nothing... my parents sold me to a brothel, when I was young.  
Once day, I was with a man who'd rented me and... without knowing why, I realized I couldn't take it anymore.  
I strangled him, and I ran away. Took a new name, started a new life...  
There, now you know everything." she said, crying, and shook her head frustratedly. "I shouldn't have told you."

She looked so sad, and vulnerable, and this time Markus couldn't help himself but comfort her. He couldn't leave her like this.  
He stepped forward, offering his open arms.  
North looked startled, but she didn't step back or seem reluctant. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.  
She returned the hug, and he controlled himself.  
 _She smells amazing.  
_ He stroked her back comfortingly. Chastely.  
She sobbed into his shoulder.

_ I've got you.   _ he thought. _  And I won't do anything. I  **will** make you feel safe.  
_ After a while she stopped crying, and he petted her hair as well as her back.

 

They released each other, and Markus felt her absence on every part of him that had touched her.  
Cold, bereft.

He looked, and she was smiling at him tenderly, making his head spin.  
"I've never met anyone like you before, Markus." she said.  
"I've never met anyone like you, either." he said.  


Suddenly she came forward, arms back around his waist, pressing her lips to his.  
 _NO. I can't._ he thought, but the kiss overwhelmed him, the searing heat spreading in his head and evaporating every thought.  
Everything was white, and he knew nothing except the kiss and the feeling of North pressed to him.

After she released him, his mind slowly came back together.  
 _What happened to me?_  he thought.   
  


And North was already walking away.  
"North!" he called after her. But she was gone.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Markus dreamed of North that night.  
She was standing on the church balcony with him, staring out at the town furiously.  
She reached out, and a house burst into flame.  
"North?" he said, distressed.  
She turned to him, smiling a wicked smile. Her eyes were smoldering like coal, but this time in the literal sense.  
"They'll burn me?" she asked. "Well. I'll burn them right back."

She lifted her arms and swiped them aside, and in a row, all of the town's houses burst into flames.  
The wind  **screamed** as fire expanded through the air, and men and women fled before it.  
"NO!" he shouted, coming forwards.  
She let him grab her. Instead of fighting she grabbed him too, her head nuzzling into his chest, and he felt heat spreading through him.  
And then  **he** was burning. He lifted his hands and saw them catching flame, the fire spreading to his chest and engulfing him.

 

Markus woke up, sweating.  
He got up, taking a drink of water and stepping outside to get some air.

He stared up at the stars in the night sky to take his mind off of things, tracing the constellations in his mind.  
And there was... the North star.

 _Nothing can keep my mind from her._ he thought.

 _She's not a witch._ he told himself. _I know she isn't._  
_But thoughts like these, dreams like these, are the kinds of things that get women labelled as a witch._  
_That kiss... If anyone were a witch, it would be North._  
_But she's not. I... I just know it._

He headed back to bed and prayed quietly as he drifted off. 

 

 

He woke to roosters crowing, and got prepared for a day of teaching.  
It was his main job, as preaching only took one day a week.  
Both jobs were his calling. Talking, explaining, convincing. From a young age he'd realized that he exuded a calm, firm confidence that made others want to listen. And he enjoyed it, enjoyed finding the words to help others see what he needed them to see.

He walked the dirt road, books under his arm, as farmers and tradesmen all went about their business.  
People chattered, and he caught snippets of conversation

 _The chickens are looking-_  
_How did the cat even get into-  
                 Bobby is learning fast-_

 

_But if a witch did make-_

A chill went down his spine.  _Witch._ Of course they were still talking about it, but it nevertheless caused a pit in his stomach.  
Maybe he could plan something for his next sermon, something to stop this.

 

He walked on further, and down the road towards him came North.  
She was wearing her hunting gear, leather draping her body. The sun caught in her copper-blonde hair, tied into a loose braid.  
She had a bow slung over her shoulder. Clearly heading out to hunt.  
As she walked she glared at the men and women who looked at her with either desire or disapproval.

He knew he should disapprove.  
_Deuteronomy 22:5_  
_The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman's garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the Lord thy God._  
But those were not the teachings that interested him. The many verses about what to wear or eat or sacrifice. They were all so old fashioned. No one sacrificed doves on alters anymore, so why should he concern himself with these other petty issues that came with them?

He watched her coming, spellbound.   
North's gaze softened as she noticed Markus approaching, her eyes becoming warm and inviting.  
And at that his heart beat faster, blood rushing to his face, warmth pooling in his stomach.  
With just a look she had bewitched him.

 _No._ Markus thought. He'd never noticed how many witchcraft metaphors there were to describe infatuation with a woman.  
Extremely fitting metaphors. But not ones he cared to use at the moment.  
She walked by and gave him a mischievous smile, turning her head as she went to keep eye contact.  
He watched her go, and realized that he had slowed his pace, turned his head around just to keep her in his sight. A soft smile played on his lips.

He straightened up, embarrassed. A few hushed whispers told him that people had noticed, and he pulled himself together and walked on.

 

  
He reached the schoolhouse, and a few children were already there, boys kicking a ball around and several girls jumping rope and chanting.  
Children's skipping rhymes were usually either charming and simple, or incredibly creepy and far too knowing. Markus knew from experience that children were incredibly clever, and fast learners. They picked up on more than most people knew.

It sounded like they were chanting "Down by the river", one of the mildest children's rhymes they knew.  
He listened. His heart sank as he realized that they were singing a new version of the song.

 _Down in the desert_  
_Where the purple grass dies,_  
_There sat a witch_  
_With yellow-green eyes._  
_No one came to see her_  
_Because she always ate them_  
_One by one_  
_Two by two_  
_Three by..._

Children sensed things. Heard their parents whisper.  
_Please let this blow over._   Markus prayed, ringing the bell to signify that class was in session.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

As the children packed away their possessions, Markus packed his as well.  
He noticed Kara waiting outside. A live-in servant employed by Todd Williams.  
She was waiting to take home Alice, Todd's daughter. A particularly quiet and somber girl.  
Alice was extremely withdrawn these past few years, barely speaking, but he wasn't surprised. Her mother had died in childbirth, and her father, Todd Williams, had become a bitter, angry drunk.

He watched her leave, concerned.  
Kara smiled warmly and held Alice's hand as she led her home.  
 _Kara is such kind, sweet girl._   he thought.

 _The kind of woman I'm supposed to marry._  he knew. _Someone soft-spoken, and sweet, and supportive._  
 _But not the kind that I like._  


 

Markus went home, preparing a meal and sitting at his table.  
He said grace, and ate by candlelight.  


As he cleaned his dishes, he thought he could hear...  
A distant commotion. Shouting.  
It was a small town, after all.

He stopped cleaning and dried his hands, hurrying outside.  
He ran towards a small crowd forming outside... the Williams' residence.  
Todd was standing outside his yard, blood streaming from a gash on his forehead, distressed and furious.

"What happened?" someone asked him.

He seemed to calm down a little.  
"I was just having dinner, I was minding my own business!" he said defensively. "And my maid jumped on me.  
I managed to defend myself, but she was crazy. I thought she was gonna kill me." Todd exclaimed.  
"So I fought her off, but she ran away. And she stole my little girl! Went out the window with her!"

Murmurs ran through the crowd.  
"Witches steal children." someone said.

"Yeah, she's a witch!" Todd exclaimed. "Has to be! She was crazy, screaming! Speaking in tongues!"

 

 _Whatever possessed her to do this?_   Markus thought.  _I can see how much she loves Alice._ _The only reason Kara would take her would be to protect her._

He suspected that Todd's story was a lie.  
The man seemed drunk, and he'd always had an aura of anger and viciousness to him, even if he didn't act on it publicly. And Kara was a sweet and caring woman.  
He wanted to say something, but he had no proof the man was lying. And even if he did, the law was on Todd's side, and so was the bible.  
A parent had every right to punish his children as he saw fit. Kara had no right to defend Alice, or take her away.

 _This is not **fair**._ realized Markus. And yet, what could he do?

The crowd murmured and whispered, and he could sense the tension growing. The word 'witch' echoed around him.  
 _It's happening._ he realized.  _It's starting here._

 

 

The crowd started to disperse when the sheriff arrived to ask Todd some questions.  
Markus headed home, and made a plan to visit North tomorrow morning to let her know what had happened, and warn her.

 

 


End file.
